


Killing Me Softly With His Song

by NihilismBot



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fic within a Fic, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, it's first aid's first story please be nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 07:04:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11375061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NihilismBot/pseuds/NihilismBot
Summary: First Aid wanted to enjoy a bit of time at Swerve's, not listen to Whirl read one of his old Wrecker fanfics





	Killing Me Softly With His Song

At this point, First Aid was regretting sitting so far from the door. Just a few booths down and he could easily and quietly make his way out of the bar.

Now probably wasn't the time for regrets though. At least not regrets about where he sat.

Maybe he could regret writing stories about the Wreckers. Specifically writing romantic stories about the Wreckers. Specifically sexual stories about the Wreckers. Specifically sexual stories about the Wreckers and the reader.

Maybe he could regret putting his stories on the web. Or he could regret finding a small, but dedicated fanbase for his Whirl x reader stories. Or he could regret never deleting any of that from the web and the universe and his memory.

He knew it was too late for any regret the moment he heard Whirl enter the bar shouting, “I told you all I have fans who want me to frag them! I found a fic!”

Well, First Aid didn't **know** it was too late, he just knew that the universe was unfair and the likelihood that Whirl was talking about anything other than one of his unedited fics was minimal in such a cruel, uncaring reality.

Whirl sauntered over to the bar, datapad in claw and began reading, not bothering with the work's title or author's name. “'It's been too long since you and Whirl had some time alone to really enjoy each other's company. The battles feel like they've been getting longer, more taxing, more demanding. Your pedes ache as you take each step-'” Whirl paused. “Who cares, let me skip to the good stuff.”

“Make sure it's nothing too raunchy, I'm trying to run a family establishment here.” Swerve smiled as he cleaned a glass.

There was a brief silence where First Aid thought about running out the room, pretending that Ratchet had called him, but the door was blocked off by Skids entering the establishment.

“Here we go,” Whirl said triumphantly after some scrolling on the datapad. “Almost skipped it with all this flowery garbage. 'His arms are on either side of your face as he looms over you, EM field pulsating with lewd intent. His citrine orb glows dimly as it gazes into your optics. 'We can't do this here,' you plead, 'the others will hear.' But there's no force behind your words. It's been too long, and you're far too overheated.'”

Skids took a seat next to Whirl and Swerve automatically handed him a drink. “What are you reading?”

“Someone wrote a dirty story featuring me! And I'm gonna make their dreams come true by actually reading it!” Whirl kicked his pedes happily.

First Aid put his head in his servos. This wasn't a dream, this was a nightmare. And “citrine orb”? What the scrap was he thinking?!

“'He effortlessly lifts you up, your body almost going limp in his strong grip, your vents spinning to life. The blue mech presses his chest against yours and nuzzles against your neck' I don't think I can do that.” Whirl looked up from the datapad. “Swerve, I need your help, gotta see if I can pin you and nuzzle you.”

“Absolutely not.” Swerve crossed his arms for emphasis.

“Aw, it's for research though! We gotta see if this realistic!”

Skids grinned, “Someone is fragging you, it's certainly not realistic.”

“Hey! I'll have you know I'm a hot commodity! I leave a trail of broken sparks in my wake.”

Skids laughed but only asked Whirl to continue reading.

“'Your interface panel opens before you even know what's happening. All you know is that you're hot, so hot, and so desperate. The larger mech chuckles, 'Eager are we?' the azure helicopter asks as he rubs at your exposed equipment with his knee. You are completely at the mercy of this bot. Anything that he wants to do to you, he can. There's nothing you could do to stop him. And he knows this and he's **loving** this.'”

At least Whirl had the decency, or the impatience, to have not read the author's name. Still, if anyone found out this was First Aid's writing, he'd be laughed off the ship, off Cybertron, off of reality. Weakly, First Aid turned to see who was gathered and found a new addition, Tailgate, to the small group of listeners. He seemed enthralled.

“''Whirl,' you manage to weakly plea, 'Please, the other Wreckers are right around the corner. They'll hear us!''” Whirl had been using an awful falsetto for the voice of the reader, a comically husky voice for the narrator, and a deeper version of his natural voice for his own lines. “''Let them hear then,' the one-eyed mech said, 'Let them know you're getting fragged by the hottest Wrecker in the group.''” Whirl paused. “Yeah, that does sound like something I'd say.”

“Did the writer forget your name?” Swerve looked up from the glass he was polishing. “I don't think he's used it in the last five paragraphs.”

It was called keeping the listener engaged!! First Aid sighed, no, it was called being new to writing and not knowing that you could just use names to specify bots.

“''Then be quick about it!' you snap, your body is heating up. The helicopter chuckles his own panels opening and his spike pressurizing. It's so much bigger than you expected! You feel ashamed of your own equipment in comparison. Looking at the girth of his spike, you're not sure if you can really ta-'”

“There's no way it says all of this!” Skids quickly grabbed the dataslab from Whirl and looked over it quickly muttering the last few lines. “It's so much bigger than you expected, you feel ashamed of your own equipment in comparison, looking at the girth of his spike, you're not sure if you can really take it...” Skids made a face but handed the slate back to Whirl. “Continue.”

“Thank you!” Whirl huffed indignantly. “As I was saying! 'You avert your eyes, 'Whirl, are you sure about this?' He tilts your chin up with a claw, golden orb looking right at you, 'Are **you** sure?' he asks with a voice full of concern. You can't deny him any longer and your valve cover comes off, fluid dripping obscenely between your legs. 'Now there's a sight,' the Wrecker chuckles-' Why do I keep chuckling? ''Now there's a sight,' the Wrecker chuckles. He slowly eases himself into you. Your valve stretches as it accommodates his full length and you can feel the tip hitting the back of your valve-' Ow. Has this bot never actually been fragged before?”

First Aid **had** interfaced before thank-you-very-much! He just thought.. Well he read a few stories anyway, where having the back of your valve slammed was described favorably, so that's what he wrote. He didn't write like that anymore! Or, he wouldn't if he was still writing.

Whirl burst out laughing, “This bot actually wrote out the moans! ''AaaaaAAAAaaa!!!' you say as he pistons into you. He grunts, 'Hnnn NnNNnn!!' The cerulean bot feels amazing, giving your valve just the right stretch, thrusting in just so, you have to cover your mouth to not scream out as he frags you senseless.'”

“How are they positioned?” Tailgate asked. The question sounded wrong coming from the small mech.

Whirl scrolled through the slate. “It doesn't really say. I think you're on the wall and I'm holding you up? Which I don't think I can do. Swerve, really, you need to let me treat you like a ragdoll for science.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Just finish it up, you have to be close to the end.” Skids smiled into his glass.

“'Whirl leans over, whispering in your audio receptor, 'You're acting like my spike is the best thing out there, Sweetspark. Like you would die without it.' You can't say anything in response, you're too lost in pleasure. Each thrust sends a spark through your spark' … A spark through your spark? Really? 'Each thrust sends a spark through your spark and you can feel your overload coming to its peak. You bite down hard on your finger as you overload, spilling transfluid on the taller mech. With a few short thrusts, he overloads after you, grunting out your name.'”

“That seemed fast.” Skids said with a grin.

It wasn't fast, alright? There just weren't many ways to describe facing! Thrust, piston, hammer- you run out of verbs! It was a decent length if you asked First Aid!

Whirl said nothing and just scrolled on his datapad. “There's more but the fragging is over, what a shame.”

“This thing has an actual story?” Swerve asked.

“I haven't actually read it, I'm just looking for the word 'spike' and I don't see it again.” Whirl looked up. “Point is, I told you I had fans that want to frag me!”

“Do they?” Swerve grinned, “Or do they want to frag any blue helicopter?”

“I thought it was sweet!” said Tailgate. “Well, the part you read wasn't romantic, but I bet the other parts are.”

At least First Aid had one fan. And maybe one day he wouldn't be too embarrassed to look him in the optic again. For now, First Aid was determined to not move until the small group of avid readers, especially Whirl, had left.

He found himself sitting at the booth almost until closing. He dosed off for a bit and was woken by a claw tapping on his arm.

“You know, I could teach you some positions I can **actually** do if you're interested,” Whirl winked. Or blinked.

First Aid buried his face in his servos are tried to will himself to disappear.

“It's flattering, you know? Having fans so focused on your spike.”

Forget disappearing. Now he just wanted to die.

“Maybe I could show you, **First Responder**.”

Oh Primus, he figured out his not-clever-enough pen name.

Whirl stood up, giving First Aid's shoulder one last squeeze. “Just saying, the offer stands if you really want a piece of this big azure mech.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was a teeeeeensy bit drunk while writing this


End file.
